


A different perspective

by DetectiveBiggs98



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gap Fillers, Gen, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveBiggs98/pseuds/DetectiveBiggs98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kaneki did speak again, it was like the death cry of an animal, filling anyone unlucky enough to hear with an unexplainable sense of dread.</p><p>“..Who?”</p><p>It was then Arima understood two things. The first being he was in no condition to answer any questions. The second, while his heart remained beating and his body intact, he’d just witnessed the death of Kaneki Ken.</p><p>And if he kept up this destructive behavior, soon his metaphorical death would become a real one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A strange ghoul

**Author's Note:**

> This is my stab at Arima's perspective of things (pun unintended ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

“‘He, is… Ainu.’” The small boy choked out, tears trickling along his bloodied cheeks. “‘H-His eyebrows sparkling… His white beard hangs down his chest. The thatched mats spread outside of his chise, spread softly, his splendid Attos.. He polishes, cross-legged, his Makiri, with eyes completely absorbed… He… Is Ainu..’”

Arima stood still, mouth loose as the boy’s body released a violent shudder. He’d heard these words before, but he couldn’t pinpoint from where.

“‘The God of Ainu Mosir,’” The strange ghoul continued, more steady this time. “‘Ae-oine Kamuy, Descendant of Okiku-rumi, he perishes, a living corpse. The summer’s day, the white sunlight, Unabushi, ends simply through his breath alone’.”

“How beautiful.” The words slid off his tongue without warrant. He shouldn’t be speaking with the ghoul, but something about the boy--about his words, had brought the reaper himself to a standstill.

“It’s by Hakushu.”

Hakushu Kitahara? Why would a ghoul--?

His earpiece crackled, _“Kishou, that’s him.”_

“Oh, I see. You’re…” Kaneki Ken, the college student turned ghoul.

Kaneki raised his head, remaining eye round at the recognition in Arima’s voice. Like a startled child.

This is the one V plans on…

Something clenched in his chest. He ignored it and started to close the gap between them. Orders are orders.

As his mind cleared, he became aware of the sound of water crashing through the drains. Must be raining. He commented on this, buying the child some time to gather his bearings.

“It’ll be over soon.” Trance broken, he allowed himself to slide back into his usual razor sharp focus. He raised Ixa, electricity collecting in the center. “We’re in V14. No ‘ghoul’ can pass through here. You can’t go any further than V14.”

Prove yourself. Prove you’re an asset worth keeping alive.

Arima wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but when Kaneki left a crack in Narukami, a feeling akin to excitement stirred within the Reaper.

The only other ghoul capable of damaging his equipment was the one-eyed owl.

A smile tugged at his lips, portraying his malice to it’s fullest extent. “You’re good, Kaneki Ken.”

Had he finally found it? An opponent that wouldn’t crumple beneath his boot no different than an ant?

Testing the kid was the last thing on his mind when he thrust his arm, sending several kagune rocketing through his abdomen.

Kaneki hit the ground with a loud _thump._ He didn’t move.

“I didn’t expect you to damage Ixa’s defensive barrier.”

Arima approached, feet stopping inches from the boy’s head.

Nothing.

Lost in the feeling, he’d forgotten to restrain himself, and like always, he’d broken his object of fascination. Like a true Reaper.

Kaneki’s eye had rolled back into his head, leaving the white to stare mockingly up at him, at the Reaper, who only knew of death and destruction.

“That’s right…”

Somewhat angry, he slammed the tip of Ixa through it.

“I’ll need a new quinque.” He muttered, unsure whether it was directed to himself, to alleviate the bitter taste in his mouth, or to Kaneki; in a last ditch attempt to rouse him, to make him fight again.

He received no such response. Guess it really was over.

He’d finish him and--

“Seven hundred… fourteen.”

Arima blinked.

“Seven hundred.. Seven.”

Counting? Why was he doing that?

His eyebrows pinched together. No matter how much he stared, the peculiar behavior didn’t end. Once again, he was stumped by this half-ghoul’s actions.

He didn’t understand the anomaly that was Kaneki Ken. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps he was simply awed Kaneki could speak in that condition, but it wasn’t until the boy had made it to the twenties, did Arima stir.

A thick warmth trickled down his cheekbone.

He touched it, finger returning smeared in blood.

The tightness in his chest loosened.

His hand rose to his comm, slowly, as though he were restricted within a dream.

“He passed.”

Maybe he was worth keeping alive after all.

                                                              ___

After weeks of searching, Arima managed to locate the poem Kaneki had recited. Hakushu Kitahara was a rather famous poet in Japan; he would’ve found it faster if not for his hectic schedule. The one Kaneki had referenced, was a folk song called the Song of the Ancient Ainus. He wasn’t much of a reader, and yet, he drank in every word with fervor. He read in Kaneki’s voice, barely a shaky whisper, yet growing firmer as it went on. When he snapped out of it, he’d finished the entire book, and the sun was rising.

He leaned in his chair and set the book on the table.

Not a single poem by Hakushu had answered his questions. The questions nagging at his mind since their encounter in V14. Why had Kaneki chosen to recite that poem? What was he referring to? What did he mean?

Sadly, Arima was swamped with work (as always). He couldn’t find the time to visit Cochlea until another week had passed.

As he drew closer to the cell, he caught sight of a guard passing a bowl through the slot on the door. “Number 240. Food.”

_CRASH!!_

“I don’t need thisssss!!” A ghastly hiss sliced through the metal like butter.

The guard stumbled away, arms up as though to shield his body from the agonized cries.

 

“Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out!! Out! Out! Out! Let me out, let me out, let me out!! Out.. Let me… OUT!!”

 

Arima drew closer, grip on the book tightening. When the shrieking died down, sounds of frantic scratching and sobbing took its place.

“I-I have to go!! I have to save…”

Through the window, he could see Kaneki’s fingernails break off, leaving behind trails of gore in their wake. His eyes were wrapped in bloody bandages, and his cheeks were drenched in both snot and tears.

At this rate, Kaneki Ken would certainly perish.

“They are dead. All of them.”

Arima swung the cell open, ignoring the guards cry for him to stop.

He leaned in close to assure he had the young males undivided attention.

“I killed them all.”

For a moment, the world had gone quiet. Not a sound was made in the hallways. Not a sound was made by Kaneki as he computed Arima’s words.

Then he screamed, and fell backward, hands gripping tufts of his matted hair.

 

“Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!? Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!?

 

Arima straightened his posture, watching Kaneki curl in on himself.

“Wh-Wh-What!? Wh-Wh-What!? Then, where are they!? W-Why!!? I… I… I…” His breath hitched in his chest. “I… I… I…”

Silence stretched between them, so long and so heavy, even Arima felt it prickle along his arms and neck.

When Kaneki did speak again, it was like the death cry of an animal, filling anyone unlucky enough to hear with an unexplainable sense of dread.

“..Who?”

It was then Arima understood two things. The first being he was in no condition to answer any questions. The second, while his heart remained beating and his body intact, he’d just witnessed the death of Kaneki Ken.

And if he kept up this destructive behavior, soon his metaphorical death would become a real one.

This was worrisome. His orders were to keep the half-ghoul alive, if he were to pass away, Arima will have disobeyed.

“Prison chief.”

Haisaki paused at the end of the hallway.

“Is number 240…” Arima branched off, not quite sure how to address what he’d just witnessed. “Is he always like that?”

“Yes. He’s always crying at night. Worse than most babies.” He answered, scarred face giving no sign of pity or remorse. “I don’t know what nightmares he’s tormented by, but he’s clawed at his eyes so much they’re festering. He doesn’t eat either, at this rate, he’s just going to die from starvation.”

Arima looked away. “I see.”

Truly, this was worrisome.

 

Arima slid the book through the same slot the guard had slipped his food through. He wasn’t sure how to make the half-ghoul’s erratic behavior stop, and didn’t understand why he was acting this way--but he did know Kaneki liked Hakushu, and that was a start.

“If that isn’t enough, I’ll bring more.”

Which he did. So much more that the small cell had become a library.

For reasons indiscernible to Arima himself, he even bought sheets for his bed.

His job was to kill ghouls, not check on them every chance he got like a doting father and listen to their excited reports on each book they’ve read during his absence. The ownership rights were his, so the boy’s well-being was his responsibility. That’s the only reason he felt compelled to do these things.

Right?

Watching him thumb through a book on the other end of the table, Arima couldn’t say for sure. He looked considerably better since the first time he’d visited. Although, his eyes were puffy from having cried recently, and he had a fragile look; like one wrong word could shatter whatever sanity he’d managed to collect. Compared to how he’d found him, this was a major improvement.

Kaneki was--no, that wasn’t his name anymore. All traces of Kaneki Ken had died that day, including the boy’s memories of himself.

That wouldn’t do.

“I guess you need a name, huh?”

The boy blinked, gaze drifting up from his book. “A… name?”

“Your appointment to an investigator position is being planned as part of the rehabilitation program.” He replied patiently. “Can’t keep calling you number 240 forever. What do you want it to be?”

“A name..” He repeated, head lowering. “Don’t you usually have other people name you?”

Arima hesitated, carefully wording his lie. “..The higher-ups have decided to leave it to you.” In reality, the right had been given to Arima. As did the rest of his rights. Nothing about Kane--no, 240--belonged to himself.

His head went lower until his neatly combed bangs had hidden his face. “But… I really have no idea.”

This clearly wasn’t going anywhere. “Well then,” Arima slid the newspaper he’d been reading to him. “Pick two kanji you like.”

“Okay.”

Interestingly enough, he chose the words coffee and world.

“So then…” What was a good name? “How about Haise?”

For some unknown reason number 240 leaned closer to him, a soft smile. “...Haise.”

Arima leaned away. Memories or not, the boy’s actions were confusing as ever.

“Mm, I like it. It’s wonderful.” Haise scribbled the kanji onto a blank sheet of paper. Then he sat up, grinning so wide and so naively it was like Arima was facing a child rather than an SS rated ghoul. “Thank you, Arima.”

A warmth he’d never experienced kindled in his chest. It didn’t last long before the familiar tug of grief returned.

 _You really know nothing else, don’t you?,_ He thought. _Smiling at your persecutor so warmly, how pitiable._

“..You’re welcome.” He said, getting to his feet and gathering his stuff. “My time is up. I have to get back to work.”

Haise’s happiness quelched,  “A-Already?”

His feet froze in place, and he glanced at the door, then at his watch. “...I can stay for a couple minutes longer.”

Haise perked up instantly. “Really!?”

“Yeah.” Arima returned to his seat and draped his coat over his lap.

Haise passionately filled him in on the book he was currently reading and told him in great detail about a conversation he’d had with a guard earlier.

Arima listened, head resting on his chin. His eyelids grew heavier the longer he remained, and he had to stifle a yawn. Being so relaxed in the presence of a ghoul, honestly, what was happening to him?

 

Arima pulled over beside the cemetery. Haise pushed the door open but didn’t budge from his seat. “A-Are you sure Mado is here?”

“That is what her subordinates said.”

“I-I know, I just…” Drawing in a deep breath, Haise clambered out of the car, feet slow and uncertain. Arima was preparing to leave when he’d reached the grass, but Haise stopped and looked over his shoulder at him.

His face had become as white as his hair.

Arima blinked. What did he want? Reassurance?

Arima offered him a small nod.

A wobbly smile made its way to Haise’s clammy skin, and he gave Arima a thumbs up. He watched Haise until he’d reached Akira, offering her a polite bow. With a frown, he backed out of the parking lot.

He hadn’t intended to stay this long.

Haise would be fine. He’d grown much stronger these past couple of months. Akira was professional; she’d treat him well. He couldn’t guarantee everyone in the CCG would be this way, but Haise was capable. He was his apprentice after all.

Originally, he’d been looking forward to the space both of them being busy would provide. Growing attached was bad. If Haise were to go out of control, Arima would be the one tasked with killing him. And knowing V, they would most certainly guarantee that happens. Arima would follow their orders. There was no room for personal feelings and attachments.

Keeping Haise at a distance was good. It was easier.

Until, it wasn’t.

In his rare moments of downtime, he found he had nothing to do. He’d twiddle his thumbs, pace around, strike up the occasional friendly conversation with a coworker, but he still felt restless. After months of visiting Haise every chance he could find, he didn’t know what to do with his time anymore.

After two weeks of this stagnation, Haise approached him with a book recommendation. He accepted it.

This became a recurring theme between the two of them.

Arima enjoyed the books, but also, it gave him an excuse to speak with Haise. He’d tell him what he thought about each book, and Haise would nod attentively, giving his own input about the literature. The occasional meetings and sparring also helped ease his mind. Haise was really branching out and making friends, much different than the child who’d tell him about every social encounter he’d had with vigor, even the negative ones.

Arima’s chest swelled a bit at the thought.

He didn’t stop to wonder what this emotion was, or why it was happening, it just was. And for once, he didn’t mind.


	2. A strange investigator

When Haise lost control fighting Serpent, although Arima was bothered, it wasn’t for the reasons he should’ve been. He mulled over why Haise would put himself at risk like that, rather than ‘how could he lose control and let the ghouls escape.’ One slip up was all it would take, and Haise would be shipped right back to Cochlea, or worse.

He wasn’t mad, but a punishment had to be issued.

It was his duty to do so.

When he had the time, he called Haise to his office.  
He came in wide-eyed and head downcast, like a kid caught causing mischief by their parents. That was a good sign.  
Arima hopped onto the table. “So, the squad leader will be Ginshi Shirazu? What about Kuki Urie?”  
Haise joined him, giving him the details as they sparred.  
“Regardless of the situation one may be in, the most important thing is _personality,”_ Haise concluded, dodging a strike from his pen. “Shirazu seems like he can properly think about what’s happening around him.”  
“What an interesting lead Haise.” He responded, the corners of his lips pulling upwards. He easily moved his head out of the way of Haise’s counterattack. “Just fitting for you.”  
He meant it. Haise’s eyebrows knit together in a way that showed he was recalling a bad memory, but he smiled nonetheless. “I want to use this chance to let Urie improve his character, too.”

He’d left himself wide open. Too trusting, as always.  
His pupil went on, oblivious to what was coming. “I think Shirazu, who is bad at investigating and plans and the like, could make the heavy thinking aspects his own if he builds up expe--”

Arima did not let him finish. He planted his foot firmly into Haise’s stomach, sending him flying off the table, and colliding into the floor.  
“--rience!!” He finished tightly.  
When he looked up, Arima jabbed the tip of the pen inches from his eye.

He paled instantly. “I give up.”  
“Not bad Haise, but you should be faster.” Arima pulled back, a hand restraining his arm. He’d almost gotten carried away and broken him again. “Get rid of the lag between your upper and lower body.”

That should cover his punishment at least.

“Well…” He murmured. “Arima..”

“Hm?”

He nervously fiddled with the knot on his tie. “You didn’t call me because of the case? Because I couldn’t control myself, I’ve not only let Torso escape but also Serpent, who first-class Hirako was pursuing.” He bowed his head. “For my failure.. I want to apologize to first-class Hirako…”

Arima set the book he’d borrowed on the table, informing him Kafka’s ‘a crossbreed’ was his favorite. The descriptions of the crossbreed had reminded him of Haise, and he could relate to the narrator’s perspective. Both of them were given the ownership of a rather peculiar beast. A legacy of sorts.

Haise relaxed a little (just like he’d hoped he would). “Yeah, I think Kafka’s strange sense of humor really comes through in that. It’s a great short story.” A slight pause and his voice tightened again. “I exceeded my limits and had to use my kagune--”

“You did. That’s all.” Arima didn’t look at him. “It would be a good thing to increase your limits. Did you hear the ‘voice’ again?”

“...Yes.”

Arima listened silently as Haise recounted his latest encounter with the ‘voice.’ According to Haise, he’d started hearing it shortly after he was made an investigator. The first time, he went berserk in the middle of an operation and had to be taken down by Arima.  
He didn’t know what to make of it to this day. Was it a sign Haise was still unstable? Or had traces of Kaneki Ken survived after all?  
“If the past me came back,” Haise continued, unaware of the turn Arima’s thoughts had taken. “The things I’ve built in the last two years would all be lost. That’s really scary.”  
“Don’t you ever think of wanting to meet your family or former friends?” It was a simple question; one only meant to keep the conversation going. According to the file, Kaneki’s parents were deceased, and as far as Arima knew, his friends were all killed that night. He didn’t expect much of a response.  
He wasn’t in any way prepared for what came next.  
Haise’s head shot up, cheeks dusted with a hint of red. “A-As for a family, I already have one!! Arima is my dad and Akira is my mom...” He trailed off, returning to a timid murmur. “..Or something.”

For a moment, Arima just stared over his shoulder, baffled in a way only Haise could make him. “That is a rather troublesome family.” He finally managed to say.  
Surprisingly, Haise chuckled.  
Arima slipped his pen inside his pocket, that odd warmth kindling once more. Soon followed by the same grief. Too trusting. “You are like the Quincke’s parent, though.”  
“Well, they are all troublesome kids.” He agreed.  
“I want to borrow a book again, so I’ll come to the chateau.”  
“Huh!?” Haise gasped. “You don’t need to go out of your way!! I will bring some to you directly!!”  
Did he not want him to come over? He looked away. “..It’s fine. I also want to meet my grandchildren. Well, let’s wipe the desk.”

___

It had come to his attention, that he’d developed quite a soft spot for Haise. How he’d taken time off to attend his Christmas dinner. The way he’d smiled without a care when he received that horse brooch.  
Then again, maybe his constant visits to Cochlea should’ve been the first hint. Or, the way Haise was still standing there breathing even after having lost control in his presence numerous times.  
Arima tried his best, being as gentle as a god of death could be. It was difficult, as everything around him was fragile as glass. Mere insects to be crushed within his palm. His care was shown through the redirected kill blows. The severed arms and legs rather than a severed head.  
He knew he had a soft spot for the half-ghoul, only, he hadn’t realized the extent of it until he was staring him down in the Auction house.  
Haise staggered towards him, using the auditorium chairs for balance. Grayish skin and clothes drenched in blood. Chest heaving.

“Pl.. Pl...ea..se. That girl. That girl is.. my... my...”

As Arima listened, nothing else mattered. Not the artificial ghoul escaping, not the look of horror plastered to Akira’s face, not the expectant gazes of the officers surrounding the girl.  
“Haise?” He demanded, seeking an explanation for his most recent peculiar behavior. He was talking as though he knew this ghoul.  
“Arima.” He came to a stop at her shoulder. “I cornered this girl.”  
“Huh?” She breathed out.  
“Can I have the ownership rights of her?” Haise met his piercing eyes evenly.  
Arima was no fool. He knew he was hiding something, that he wasn’t being straightforward. For some reason, Haise was trying to protect this ghoul.  
Arima realized, and yet, he turned and left the room anyways. “Tell the medic squad that Rank 1 Sasaki is injured.”

He later came to regret that lapse in judgment.

                                            ___

After the Tsukiyama op, Haise had changed. No. He was gone.  
A different person entirely.  
Those wide silver eyes that sparkled with compassion had been replaced by those of a dead man. Oh, how he hated those eyes.  
He hated the sickly hue his skin had taken. He hated that horrid nickname the other officers had given him. The Black Reaper. Haise was no reaper. He was nothing like Arima. He was a gentle person.  
Things weren’t supposed to break within those hands; they were meant to be nurtured. He was supposed to foolishly spare the ghoul’s, hesitate to hurt them, try to talk to them, then get chewed out for it by him weeks after. He was supposed to cry, whine, apologize like a lost child.  
Smile like he’d never seen a bad day in his life.  
The emptiness that had settled over his features grated Arima’s nerves.  
He didn’t understand why, but it did.  
He realized what was coming half a year before it did, but, he played along. Why? Arima couldn’t say for sure. He’d become uncertain about far too many things since meeting Kaneki Ken.

When they were assigned to guard Cochlea, he knew.  
He chose to leave Haise unattended anyways. Went as far away as he could. Pursued a group of ghouls who posed little to no threat, rather than confront him. Even when cells were opened, and the guards were tossed aside like dolls.  
As long as he was held up here, he didn’t have to do anything. Haise could escape during this time frame, take the girl and go.  
He wanted him too.  
But no. Haise always had to do the unexpected. Always. Why did he never react the way he should? In moments like these, why couldn’t he do what Arima wanted, even if only once?

His earpiece crackled, a gravelly voice tickling the inside of his ear.  _“Dispose of him.”_

Arima tossed Ixa aside, lunging with Narukami. Haise blocked with his arm, face scrunched up from the strain doing so put on his body.  
Arima allowed him to fend off his attack and put space between them.  
That’s one time he could’ve killed him.  
“Ayato!!” He yelled, casting an urgent look at the ukaku ghoul over his shoulder. “Lowermost drainage channel, right!?”  
That’s two. Daring to take his eyes off of him, had Haise learned nothing from their sparring matches?  
“Take care of them!”  
“Kaneki!”

Haise flinched at the sound of his true name. That’s three.

“Kaneki.” The woman repeated. A smile parted her lips, wrinkling the skin around her teary eyes. “I’ll see you later, okay?”  
As he stared wide-eyed over his shoulder, Arima noted there were three separate times he could’ve killed him in that instance.  
The count had risen to twenty by the time he finally turned to Arima again, a tear of his own streaking along his cheek. “You’re a cruel one. Touka.”

He shrugged off his coat.

Thirty-five.

Pulling the sleeves into a knot, he let his coat fall around his waist.

Fifty.

Arima had disobeyed his orders fifty times by choosing to remain still.  
_Fifty-four,_ he corrected when Haise hunched over, allowing his kagune to materialize at an insanely slow pace.  
Being so lax in his presence. Did he intend to throw his life away ‘heroically,’ holding off the ‘fearsome’ Reaper for his friends to escape.

A boiling sensation coiled in his chest. He didn’t want to speak with Haise. He didn’t want to think about it either. Instead, he occupied his mind by counting each time he disobeyed his orders for the boy who craved death.  
Impaling his side rather than his chest, tossing him off the bridge rather than taking his head off. They’d already tipped into the hundreds.

Haise shouldn’t be this weak. Was he even trying?

The burning clenched his chest tighter, until finally, he couldn’t stand it.  
In a single sweep, he took his legs off.

“Stop playing around.”

That was three hundred. He compressed the fire raging within into an iciness that seeped from his tongue, a venom of sorts, as though he’d become a snake rather than a Reaper.

“What will you do?”

No response.

“Will you die again?” He jabbed Narukami inches from his eyes.  
Haise recoiled.

Nearly four years since the day they met.

“If I were to do this now, would that be what you want?”

Arima couldn’t say he understood the half-ghoul any better. He didn’t understand why he’d recited that poem in V14, nor why he’d chosen to pursue a bond with him of all people.

And yet, he thought of him as--

 

Ah, that’s six hundred and forty five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, all finished! Thanks for reading this far! xD

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't intend for this to be so long, so I've split it into two chapters ^^; I just have to finish writing the second part now, hope you enjoyed the first tho!!


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